


Late Bloom

by Tangerine



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, Casual Sex While Pining, Drunk Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: Pyro has always been a late bloomer. Emboldened after a one-night stand with Iceman, he resolves to change that.





	Late Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowshus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/gifts).



> I, too, was totally down for Bobby and Simon hooking up.

Simon had always been a late bloomer. 

According to his mom, he hadn't walked until he was almost two and didn't learn to talk for another two years after that. Much to his mortification, he hadn't started puberty until sixteen, spending most of high school stressed out about gym class and predictably dateless for every school dance. When everyone else had gone onto college, he'd stuck around Brooklyn for another couple years, working part-time at a fast food joint when he wasn't playing video games or arguing with fools online.

He hadn't hooked up with anybody until his second year of community college, at a party. The guy had talked to him all evening, but it wasn't until his tongue was in Simon's mouth that he realized a) he was actually pretty gay and b) he was going to sleep with him entirely because he had a nice smile. It didn't take Simon long to discover he was pretty bad at one-night-stands. The guy never called him back. 

It was only a few months after that when his mutant powers literally blew up and torched the science building. By then, he was legally allowed to drink, well past the point when people usually found out they were mutants, but his body, as usual, hadn't gotten the memo. It was honestly the story of his life. 

Nothing ever happened on time for him, so his life always looked like a series of poor life choices.

Maybe if he'd walked and talked earlier, his dad wouldn't have bailed on them. Maybe if he'd looked even vaguely adult-like, the doctors would have taken his concerns about his mom's failing health more seriously. Maybe if he'd gone to school when he should have, he would have been able to pay for better treatment. Maybe if he'd known what he was doing, that guy would have called him back and he wouldn't have been so alone during the worst time in his life. And maybe if his powers had shown up when they should have, he would have joined the X-Men from the start instead of having to beg for a chance later. 

But none of those maybes happened. 

That was just the way Simon's life had always worked.

*

Once Iceman and Rogue (well, Rogue more than Iceman, but Simon would take it) had let him through the door and Kitty Pryde – he still called her Shadowcat in his head, he'd been a fan of the X-Men back in the day, spending hours debating on the internet – had let him stay on a provisional basis, Simon resolved to be a different man. A better man. He'd live in the moment, instead of waiting for it find him.

He was actually pretty good at the superhero thing, though sometimes he attended classes with the younger mutants and felt absolutely pathetic whenever he accidentally melted something important in front of them. He still looked young for his age, but he wasn't _that_ young. But whatever, it was fine. He was still learning. 

It only took him, max, three days to settle into the X-Mansion, which was a new record for him. Less than a week to start calling people by their given names. He even got invited to Peter's bachelor party, which was cool. It ended like every X-Men-related thing seemed to end, but he'd had a good time up until then. There had even been a moment in the bathroom, standing next to Bobby, doing his thing, when he'd glanced over, mostly on reflex, to see if he could catch a glimpse or something, and Bobby had not only caught him with a smirk but checked him out, too. Nothing happened, of course, because nano-sentinels, but he used the memory as masturbation material and wasn't weird about it at all.

When the whole wedding thing went sideways, Simon followed everyone else's lead and had a good time. He'd never been to a wedding with an open bar before, and no one batted an eye when he started making his own cocktail. Bobby sat down at the counter. "Barkeep, I'll have what he's having," he said.

"Uh, the bartender went outside for a smoke," Simon replied.

"Just make me whatever you're having," Bobby said, looking vaguely exasperated. Simon had finally gotten the joke, but as usual, just a few seconds too late. He wasn't off to the best start here, but he was trying. "So that was mortifying, huh? Trust me, I know. Public embarrassment is usually my thing."

Simon grinned, sliding a few cherries onto a plastic sword. He didn't have a single fucking clue what he was doing with this drink, but he liked cherries. "I'm more of a private humiliation type of guy myself."

Bobby grinned up at him as Simon slid his drink over. "Oh, yeah? Anything you feel like sharing?"

"They called me pencil dick all through high school," Simon blurted out.

Bobby's gaze dropped slightly, right to the crotch of Simon's dress pants, and lingered there. "Doesn't seem to be a problem anymore," he murmured, holding the glass to his mouth and taking a long sip. 

"It isn't," Simon agreed, recovering slightly. He could do this. He could flirt with a guy and not dream about marrying him or getting a dog with him or even just receiving responses to his texts. Bobby was hot as fuck, and that moment in the bathroom in Vegas had been pretty nice. From what Simon could tell from the rumour mill, Bobby hadn't been out that long, so maybe his expectations in bed were low. 

"This is fucking delicious," Bobby said abruptly, staring into his glass. He was clearly a little tipsy already, pink in the cheeks. "What the hell did you put in this besides an obscene amount of cherries? Which is just... great decision-making skills, buddy. I knew there was a reason we let you join."

"Sorry. I can't really remember," Simon admitted. He'd been a little too distracted by Bobby's smile. 

"I could go for another one. I'd make it worth your while," Bobby added, slouched over onto the counter. At some point, he'd taken off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it out of his waistband. The vaguely dishevelled look combined with Bobby's boy-next-door aesthetic totally did it for him, and Simon let his own gaze sweep over the length of Bobby's body, making his interest abundantly clear.

"Yeah, okay," Simon said, forcing his eyes to meet Bobby's heated expression. "I'm up for it."

"Great," Bobby replied with a smile, and Simon didn't think they were talking about the drink anymore.

*

When Bobby made it clear this was a one-time, drunken-wedding, bad-decision thing, Simon agreed. He could do this, easy-peasy, without getting hung up on the guy afterwards. Many people did. It was okay to be like other people, Simon told himself, keeping his arms at his side while Bobby unbuttoned his dress shirt. He stood there, biting his lip, as Bobby dropped to his knees and undid Simon's pants.

"You've done this before, right?" Bobby asked suddenly, looking up at him.

"Totally," Simon assured him, oozing with alcohol-induced confidence. "A bunch of times. Have _you_?"

"Not quite like this, but _yeah_ ," Bobby said, slipping a hand into Simon's briefs and pulling out his cock. A spike of heat shot up Simon's body like a flame, but he didn't know if it was his powers or the idea of Bobby's mouth on his dick. Probably both, Simon decided, as Bobby slowly licked over the head.

They fucked three times in total. In the morning, he tried to be cool about it. He woke up first, feeling great, even after he stepped on the used condom, and took a long shower. In hindsight, he and the guy from the party had been pretty mediocre together, which closed that memory off nicely. Bobby, on the other hand, had been totally considerate of his feelings and really into the idea of getting him off.

When Bobby had asked to fuck him – like dick-in-his-ass fucking, the kind Simon had only thought about – it'd been pretty easy to just go with the flow and let it happen. If Bobby had noticed he'd never done it before, he didn't say. Simon sure as fuck wasn't going to mention it. It'd been awesome anyway.

When Bobby turned him down after his shower, it'd only stung a little. Simon had known the rules going in and agreed with them. It was probably for the best anyway, he decided as they scrambled to get their clothes back on, both in agreement that someone was being noisily murdered upstairs. 

"You're okay with what happened last night?" Bobby asked before they left. The commotion continued above them. "I mean, I was pretty wasted, and everything's a little foggy – I don't know what the fuck you put in those drinks, but you're a serious booze genius – but I was clear about everything, right?"

"Crystal," Simon assured him, relieved Bobby didn't remember the finer details. His memory was sharper. Simon had been told he was too chatty in bed, and sometimes he said shit he shouldn't in the heat of the moment. He'd said a few things that he wished he could take back – mostly about Bobby's dreamy blue eyes – but he had definitely said worse, so maybe he'd finally grown out of that at least.

"It's just... I just got out of a relationship, and..."

"We just hooked up," Simon said sharply, cutting him off. He forced himself to relax. This was almost worse than being ghosted by the guy from the party. "It's fine. It won't happen again. We're cool."

"You aren't," Bobby replied with a peculiar little smile. Simon almost lost it before Bobby, probably realizing Simon had taken the joke in exactly the wrong way, added, "because you're Pyro. Get it?" 

"I get it," Simon admitted reluctantly. He pointed up at the ceiling. "Shouldn't we go check that out?"

"Yeah, probably," Bobby replied, and off they went. 

But hours later, he was still a little pissed. Mostly at himself, but a little bit at Bobby, too. Bobby kept looking at him, worried. Even if Simon hadn't been cool with it – and he was – he was never going to tell Bobby that. He just needed to untangle his feelings again. It'd be fine, but he needed some time.

That was all. He just needed Bobby to stop acknowledging his existence for a day or two, and then everything would be okay again.

*

It felt better to contextualize the whole thing within the scope of being a rebound. He'd heard that Bobby had gotten pretty serious with some guy in Los Angeles, but Simon had never asked for the details. He didn't want to know about anyone's relationships. If he did then he'd have to admit he'd only ever hooked up with other people and had never been the guy that someone actually settled down with.

He assumed part of the problem was that he wasn't good in bed. He had a great body and a nice cock and his face wasn't half bad either, but he was pretty inexperienced and sometimes he came too quickly or too enthusiastically or whatever. He could see why some people would find that a little off-putting. 

And even Simon could admit he wasn't much of a catch. He'd left behind a grungy basement apartment with a serious ant problem, a couple credits shy of his associate's degree, after having spent time in prison. He'd been idiotic enough to believe Professor Xavier would come to personally recruit him and had ended up as a member of the Brotherhood of Evil Fucking Mutants. He was lucky no one had died. 

So, yeah, he could understand why Bobby would be like all the others. Which was unfair, but Simon was still low-key irritated all the time about the whole thing. Not just at Bobby. It was self-directed, too.

He was supposed to be better at this. He wanted to be better at this. The sex had been amazing. 

He couldn't even find a moment of peace to get the fuck over himself. Bobby was everywhere. Leading training sessions, guiding them into fights. There were communal showers, and Simon hadn't even considered what that would be like, showering next to a guy he'd had a one night stand with after a hard-fought battle, with other people around them. Simon fell back into old habits and just put off showering until everyone else was gone. At least all his cock-related problems were the opposite now. 

But it wasn't even all of that bullshit that bothered him the most. It was sitting with Bobby, watching TV, laughing with him, and remembering how his mouth had tasted and how his hands had gripped his cock and how full Simon had felt with Bobby pushing into him. Bobby was a really nice guy. Cute, too.

That was the problem. Bobby was _really_ cute and _really_ his type. His mom would have loved him. 

"Fuck," Simon said to the empty dining room when he thought that while nursing a grilled cheese.

He had to quit, he realized with sudden clarity. His mom would have adored Bobby and now Simon had to quit the X-Men and see if there was any other team desperate enough to take him on. There had to someone willing to take a chance on a reformed villain. He wasn't even the original Pyro. That guy was still out there, and he'd probably be pretty pissed when he realized Simon had stolen his name. 

He took a miserable bite of his sandwich. He wasn't seriously considering leaving the X-Men – it was literally a dream come true – but really wished he'd noticed he'd been that into Bobby _before_ he'd slept with him. He was such an idiot sometimes. It was like he never learned. 

*

Besides Bobby and Anna Marie, there wasn't really anyone else on the team who he really hung out with. Gambit was kind of scary, generally, so face-timing with her on her honeymoon was out of the question. Bobby was the problem, so Simon didn't really want to talk to him about his stupid feelings.

He resolved to just internalize all his feelings and then ignore them. It was easier said than done.

Friday rolled around, and he was invited out by some of the over-21 mutants, but he wasn't really feeling it. He thanked them and begged off and ended up alone in the rec room, watching movies. He was feeling a little sorry for himself, and loafing around and making s'mores made him feel better. 

Because he had fire powers, and he could toast them on his palm, and that was hilariously awesome.

He'd come a long way from being that sad guy on a couch he'd fished out of someone's dumpster. 

He wasn't exactly super eager to go back to that life either.

"Feel like company?" Bobby said, leaning over the back of the couch and peering down at him. He had basketball shorts on and a t-shirt that said _Ice Ice Baby_ across the chest. There was a white towel around his neck, his entire body blotchy red from overexertion. Simon was ashamed of himself, that he found the whole look so hot. "Or I can leave you the fuck alone and go entertain myself in my room."

"Doing what?" Simon asked. Bobby smiled faintly, and Simon flushed. He looked away. "Yeah, sure."

Bobby slid onto the couch, a good three feet away. "Seriously, I wouldn't take it personally."

"Is this because we slept together?"

"Uh, yeah, a little," Bobby admitted, scrubbing a hand sheepishly over the back of his neck. He grinned a bit, small and secret, the colour on his cheeks deepening, and Simon found himself resisting the urge to get on his knees and tug those basketball shorts off his hips. "It's supposed to be awkward, right?"

"It's just sex," Simon heard himself saying. If his hands hadn't been covered in marshmallow, he might have given himself a pat on the back. "We were both wasted. I'm not an expert or anything – this was my first wedding with an open bar – but isn't that a thing people do? Hook up at other people's weddings?"

"I guess I missed out on a couple rites of passage," Bobby admitted with a shrug, fingers clutching the ends of his towel. "I didn't come out until I was, like, ancient. I have some gaps in my experience."

"Age is just a number," Simon said sagely. "Plenty of time to try new things."

"You're wise beyond your years, but I shouldn't be surprised about that," Bobby replied, grinning. He lifted his chin in the direction of the coffee table, which was covered in all the shit Simon had pilfered from the kitchen. "First you make amazing drinks, and now you're making s'mores with your hands."

"Want one?" Simon asked with his own matching grin. "Help yourself to the beer, too."

"Don't mind if I do. On both accounts." Bobby leaned over and opened the pack of beer, taking two out. He raised an eyebrow at Simon, asking, _hey you thirsty?_ And Simon nodded back, all, _yeah hit me up bro thanks_. While Simon toasted the s'mores, Bobby chilled the beers. "We're a match made in heaven."

"Yeah," Simon agreed, his heart doing a weird little dance in his chest. "Fire and ice, right?"

"Right," Bobby said and smiled at him again.

*

They watched movies, and laughed their asses off, and drank through the pack of beers. Not enough to get wasted but just a little buzzed. Enough to take the edge off, make things comfortable. There had been a string of guys between the guy from the party and Bobby, but nothing where he really had to ever talk to the guy again, so this was actually pretty nice. So they'd fucked once; it was no big deal. 

The longer the night went, the more he accepted he wanted to do it again. As friends if that was all he could get, and Bobby had been pretty clear that was all he could offer. Simon liked sex. Simon liked Bobby. Simon really liked sex with Bobby. Why complicate things anyway? He could be that guy.

He wasn't even remotely drunk anymore, so he was pretty sure he could even be that guy sober. 

"You gotta stop looking at me like that," Bobby said to him, head lolling on the back of the couch, blue eyes fixed on Simon's face. He smiled, and Simon instinctively smiled back. "Yeah," Bobby said again, softly, "you gotta cut that out. We had a deal, didn't we? One night just to get it out of our systems."

"Didn't seem to work," Simon ventured. He had no idea how to do this suavely.

Bobby swallowed, eyes dropping to Simon's lips. "So do you do the, uh, the casual sex thing or no?"

"Obviously," Simon replied. 

"Wanna do it with me?"

"Obviously," Simon said again and slid his hand over the bulge in Bobby's shorts, watching how his eyes flicked shut and the way he bit his lip to stifle a moan. Giving your teammate a handy in the rec room was probably a bad idea – though Simon would have bet his entire meagre inheritance that it had definitely happened before – but he found he didn't really care. Bobby just looked so happy about it. 

He stroked Bobby for a while over his shorts then slipped his fingers under them. They both made surprised noises. Bobby leaned over and kissed him, curling his hand around the back of Simon's neck. They kissed sloppily on the couch for a while, Simon still jerking Bobby's dick, slow and easy. 

"Uh, we should, uh, oh," Bobby said, making a startled little noise as Simon crooked his wrist just so. Bobby kissed him again, tasting him with his tongue, then put his hand over Simon's and held it still. "As much as I used to dream about this exact same scenario, we should take it to my room. Or yours."

"Mine's closer," Simon replied. "Sure you want to walk through the halls with a hard-on?"

"Uh," Bobby said then groaned again as Simon moved between his legs and spread them. He was already pretty worked up, and Simon had spent the last few hours thinking about blowing him, so it didn't take long until Bobby was coming in his mouth. Simon had always really liked this part. 

After Simon tucked Bobby back into his shorts, Bobby grabbed him by the hand and tugged him down the hall to Simon's room. He was a little embarrassed about Bobby seeing what it looked like, but he didn't let on. He'd basically expected to be kicked out for the first few weeks and then he just hadn't had time. It was still mostly empty, walls bare, the sheets the same ones he'd been issued when he arrived. 

But Bobby didn't comment on the sparse decor or the fact Simon was still living out of his suitcase. His attention was on getting Simon out of his clothes, which Simon fully supported. They undressed fully then made out in the centre of the room for a while, hands all over the place, the kisses rife with tongue. His cock left smears on Bobby's belly, casually reminding Bobby of its existence. Bobby grabbed it. 

"How about you fuck me this time, huh?" Bobby asked, jacking him slowly. 

"Yeah, that would be pretty awesome," Simon blurted out before he remembered his quest to be suave.

He had a little more experience with this, and Bobby was just so responsive. Past Simon had done future Simon a real favour by stocking up on supplies he assumed he'd never really use. "Boy scout," Bobby said fondly, laying back on the back with his legs spread, eager for Simon's fingers.

That was Simon all right. Always prepared. On a multi-year delay, sure, but he usually got there in the end.

Later, as Simon lay dozing, legitimately fucked out, Bobby got up and tugged his clothes back on. Simon thought about asking him to stay – he always thought it would be nice to share a bed with a guy he liked enough to let his guard down with – but he assumed it wasn't in the casual sex handbook. 

"Good night," Bobby said, one hand on the doorknob.

"Good night," Simon replied, trying not to be weird about this, scratching an idle hand over his belly, like a dude would. He added on a whim, "If you ever want to again... you know where to find me."

Bobby smiled. "I'll keep that in mind," he said then opened the door and left, shutting it behind him.

Simon lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, then turned over and tried to sleep. His room totally smelled like sex, which he had expected, but his pillow was still cold from all the moaning Bobby had done into it, which he hadn't. Simon always ran hot now, so he let himself enjoy the chill for a bit.

Fuck, he thought, still a little dazed, that sex had been so good. His life was amazing sometimes. 

*

Bobby was about as subtle as a sledgehammer, which Simon appreciated. He wanted loud, obvious cues to keep him on track. Not that he needed much help – having sex with Bobby was basically all he thought about when he wasn't, like, torching sentinels or arguing hotheadedly with anti-mutant protesters – but he'd turned over a new leaf, and so far it seemed to be sticking. Simon felt like he'd become the quintessential poster boy for casual sex. This was his first friends with benefits situation.

He liked it. He liked it a lot when he wasn't thinking too hard about it. Focussing only on the basic premise helped a lot. Just him and his hot friend, having some awesome sex together, on the regular. 

And Bobby _was_ hot. Still cute, but his hotness couldn't be denied when he was spread out on Simon's bed – or when Bobby was in his own bed, in his own room, which was covered with mementos and photos of all his friends and clothes slovenly tossed on every surface – and looking enormously fuckable. They even screwed around once in the laundry room, washing their sheets together. It'd been exciting, but Simon really didn't want to get caught. Somebody might actually demand an explanation. 

Somebody might _notice_. How he felt, how he tried not to feel and how he still continued to feel.

It was normal to want a boyfriend, he told himself. Loads of people had boyfriends and seemed to like them, but Bobby wasn't thinking boyfriend, and Simon could handle just being the hook-up buddy. It wasn't easy – in that space of time afterwards, when he was alone again, he couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to cuddle a bit, especially with a guy who ran as cold as Bobby did – but it wasn't hard either. He knew, if he said anything, Bobby would back off, and they'd return to simply being friends. 

It just seemed like a waste. They were so compatible. But whatever, Simon told himself, scratching his belly, it was better than having nothing at all. He'd had the opposite, and he hadn't liked that either. 

"You are so bad at this, dude, be better," he said out loud, chuckling ruefully at himself. 

Maybe they weren't as dynamite in bed as he thought they were. It wasn't like he had loads of experience. Maybe this was still only mediocre, and someday some guy would come into his life and sweep him off his feet, and they'd both like all of the same things, and the sex would be mind-blowing. 

Simon tried to picture that guy, but every guy he imagined just ended up looking like Bobby.

"Fuck," Simon said again. Maybe the problem was poor life choices after all.

*

Simon's life distilled down into X-Men stuff, sexy Bobby stuff and all the rest of the life stuff Simon needed to keep functioning, like brushing his teeth and showering and paying his cell phone bill. The X-Men stuff was fine. He fit into missions now, not being left behind for his own safety or forgotten when taking formation. The sexy Bobby stuff remained incredibly sexy. Everything else was okay. 

"So this is kind of a weird request," Bobby said, lying in bed after, an arm bent behind his head. Simon looked up at him, and Bobby made a charmingly rueful face. "I have this family barbecue thing coming up, and the idea of going alone is just, like, ugh, mortifying. I could use some back up if you're game."

"Uh," Simon said, one hand on Bobby's chest. He knew he should have left right after as usual, but they'd actually ended up cuddling for a bit – and it was as awesome as Simon had hoped, like, really great – while watching funny videos on Bobby's phone, and then he just hadn't really felt like moving. 

"Oh, shit, this is weird. Sorry. I know I shouldn't have..."

"No, no," Simon said quickly, then cleared his throat, trying to act cooler, "no, I mean. I can come if you want." Simon grinned suddenly. "Do you want, like, the full fake boyfriend experience or what?" 

"We don't have to go _that_ far," Bobby said with a laugh, and Simon forced his grin to stay exactly how it was. "But, like, we could just maybe imply...? My family is a lot to take, I'm warning you now, so this is not going to be fun, sorry. I'll drive so you can stuff yourself full of hot dogs and beer."

"I do like a good wiener," Simon replied blandly.

Bobby cackled, loud enough that he clapped his hand over his mouth, but then he started making hilarious fart-noises through his hand. Simon started laughing, too, unable to resist anyone with the giggles. They laughed long and hard. Every time it looked like it might be okay, one of the met the other's eyes, and that just set them off again. Eventually, wiping their eyes, they calmed down.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Bobby asked again, a few minutes later. Neither of them had moved.

"Yeah," Simon assured him, staring the ceiling, aware of Bobby's gaze on his face. "Perfectly."

*

Simon really wasn't one to turn down free food, so he let the promise of beer, burgers and hot dogs get him out of bed and into khakis. Since Bobby was a nervous wreck, it was Simon who drove them down to Long Island and expertly parallel-parked into a narrow space. Bobby looked impressed. "I keep forgetting how many life skills you actually have," he said. "People usually get their powers earlier." 

"Late bloomer," Simon said with a shrug. 

"Yeah, me too, kinda, with the gay thing," Bobby replied, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, looking down at his feet. He didn't budge from beside the passenger door, bouncing on his heels. 

"Are we not...?"

"We are," Bobby said, glancing up at him. "But I am scared shitless. I just need a minute."

"No problem," Simon replied, leaning back against the car. It was a nice neighbourhood, nicer than any of the places Simon had grown up in. His mom had done the best she could with what she had, and he'd never doubted how much she loved him, despite his leisurely trajectory through life. He'd been lucky.

"Was your mom cool with you being gay?" Bobby asked abruptly. "You don't have to answer."

"My mom was cool with everything about me," Simon replied with a grin. He loved talking about her, and if Bobby needed the distraction right now, he was more than happy to give it. "She was an awesome lady. I can change a tire, sew a pair of pants from scratch and invest in the right retirement funds, all because she taught me. I was scrawny as fuck growing up, but she made me feel big as a mountain."

Bobby smiled brightly. "She sounds amazing." He sighed. "It's not that my parents are bad people. It's just sometimes I think they don't like me very much. Like, if I wasn't their son and they weren't obligated to spend time with me, we would've never been friends. We have nothing in common." 

"You got invited to this barbecue," Simon pointed out. "Maybe that counts for something?

"Maybe it does," Bobby admitted. He grinned at him. "Hey, you make a pretty good fake boyfriend."

"I am a man of many talents," Simon replied, ignoring the small uncomfortable twinge in his chest. 

Eventually, they headed up to the house. Bobby simply introduced him as Simon and let his presence implicate whatever they wanted to believe. Bobby's cousin, Mary, latched onto him immediately, vivacious and friendly, and she introduced him to a million people he'd never remember the names of. 

Simon ended up mixing drinks for both of them, making a third for Bobby, who was standing between two of his uncles and looking like he could use the rescue. Smiling at Bobby from across the yard, a big happy one that was more truth than lie, Bobby stared back at him for a second then smiled just as wide.

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, milling around. During dinner, they disappeared around the side of the house and sat on a hammock together, swinging slightly. Simon had a plate full of hot dogs, more than one man could ever eat, even with a love of wieners. Bobby had gotten them for him.

"Shit, sorry, I went overboard. Sometimes I think I'm funnier than I am," Bobby said, stealing one and stuffing it into his mouth. Chewing messily – Simon should not have found that as charming as he did, seriously, Bobby had mustard all over his chin – Bobby added, "I also take the joke too far. Obviously."

"It's still pretty funny," Simon admitted. "Also I'm so tempted to show off right now, you have no idea."

Bobby peered at him curiously. "Like... how exactly?"

"How much wiener I can take in one bite," Simon replied. "You haven't even seen the half of it yet."

Bobby groaned, putting his plate down over the lap of his shorts. They'd actually coordinated their outfits together, Bobby in a baby blue polo, Simon in a baby pink one, in matching beige khakis. Instead of looking like actual adults, they mostly just resembled frat boys. It wasn't a bad thing. 

"No one appreciates dick jokes like you do," Simon told him, embarrassed at how fond he sounded.

Bobby went a little pink. "Ugh, can we stop talking about dicks? My cousins can smell weakness."

Simon cackled, taking a big chomp of his hot dog, just to show off a little. Bobby flushed even darker, putting a hand lightly on Simon's face and pushing it away. Swallowing, Simon batted him away, ready to retort with something witty, but then Bobby suddenly leaned forward and kissed him, full on the lips.

Simon lifted a hand, fluttering his fingers over Bobby's neck, and kissed him back.

"Woo, lovebirds!" Mary shouted, beer in the air. 

Simon had forgotten they weren't that hidden from the rest of the family, and Bobby obviously had, too. Mary plopped down between them, drunk, and helped herself to one of Simon's hot dogs. Over her head, Bobby mouthed _sorry man my bad_ and Simon replied back, all, _don't worry about it shit happens_.

Simon really had to congratulate himself. He had completely committed to this casual sex buddies/fake boyfriend thing. It was commendable. It was like he didn't give a shit about his own heart or anything, which was squeezed up painfully in his chest. He hadn't actually thought he hated himself this much. 

But this wasn't the first time Simon had been wrong about something. Wouldn't be the last either. 

He honestly didn't know what to do because the idea of calling the whole thing off felt even worse.

"Fuck," Simon said that night, kicking his khakis off and climbing into bed. He'd begged off from hooking up, claiming his stomach hurt from all the hot dogs and booze, but normally he would've just pushed through it. Bobby loaned him a bottle of antacid then sent him off to bed without another kiss. 

Thankfully. 

Simon didn't know what he would have done if Bobby had tried to kiss him again, but he knew it would have been embarrassing and totally against the spirit of the whole friends-with-benefits thing. 

He had to call it off. He had to stop. He didn't know how to. He didn't want to.

"Fuck," he said again and slept off all his bad decisions. 

*

After the barbecue, things continued as they had been, except they both started to get sloppy. Simon invited Bobby out to dinner no less than three times, to increasingly fancy places. The last place had even required a tie. They both wore suits and ordered the cheapest bottle of wine to split and left starving, despite having sold their souls to afford it. "It looked cooler online," Simon protested, as they stuffed their faces afterwards with street meat, laughing, slopping mustard and relish down their shirts.

"I still don't know what the hell that foam stuff was," Bobby admitted. 

They both started cackling again. It turned into a really great date, except it wasn't one.

And then, once, they spent the evening messing around, and Bobby fell asleep after. He conked out with his head pillowed on Simon's shoulder, snuffling gently into his neck. Initially, Simon tried to wake him up, poking at his shoulder, with a couple soft _heys_ , but Bobby just looked up at him sleepily and murmured, "is it okay if I just stay? You're so warm," he added, nestling in closer, tucked up tight. 

"Yeah, sure," Simon said, laying a tentative arm on Bobby's back, afraid he might leave anyway. 

He didn't. 

When Simon woke up the next morning, they'd shifted in their sleep, but Bobby was still there, naked under the covers with him, his skin icy cool where it pressed against Simon's back. During the night, Bobby had tucked his knees behind Simon's legs and slung an arm possessively over Simon's chest. 

Simon lay there for a long time, trying not to move, barely even breathing. 

It was really nice, and he wanted to do it every morning, and he didn't even care that he had to pee.

Eventually, Bobby started muttering in his ear, and then Simon knew he was awake. "You are like sleeping with a furnace, dude," he mumbled. "Great fucking feature. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Nah," Simon replied easily. No one had ever stuck around long enough to notice. 

He expected Bobby to roll away and let go, but he kept talking in his ear. "I used to be afraid to really let go, like, in bed, you know? Imagine freezing some poor guy's dick off. Ugh, I'd feel bad for eternity. But you're basically a human sun. The few times I've lost control, it's like you haven't even noticed."

"I haven't," Simon admitted. 

"We literally steam together," Bobby replied, more awake now, peering over his shoulder. Simon didn't know what to tell him. He hadn't noticed, too fixated on all the little details of Bobby's body and the breathy sounds he made when Simon did something he liked and how good everything Bobby did felt.

"That's pretty cool, I guess," Simon said eventually, ignoring how inane he sounded.

Bobby rolled onto his back, and Simon could hear him give himself a good scratch. Simon lay there on his side for a bit, missing the coolness of Bobby's skin, then almost yelped when Bobby swatted him lightly on the ass. "Hey," he said, "you wanna head out and grab some egg mcmuffins, or something?" 

Simon paused briefly before responding. "Yeah, I could go for that. I need coffee. Badly."

"We should go to bed earlier," Bobby agreed, stretching. "I'm not a young man anymore."

Simon tugged a pair of briefs up his legs. He grinned. "I'm too sexy for you, keeping you up all night."

"Ha, yeah, seriously," Bobby replied, leaning over to kiss him, terrible morning breath and all. This time, Bobby didn't apologize right after, but he did look a little sheepish. He bent down and scooped his shorts off the floor. "Don't judge me too hard," he said. "They were fresh when I put them on, I swear."

"I've been way worse," Simon assured him. He'd had some dark days before joining the X-Men.

Bobby must have seen something in his face because his expression softened. "Okay, how about I do one better? I know this place, it's been around for ages, that makes the best eggs benedict. My treat."

"Sounds good," Simon said amiably, and Bobby smiled. If Simon's heart hurt at all, he pretended it didn't. 

*

Simon probably would have just let it go on forever, feelings be damned, but then they were was a big fight with a mutant who looked weirdly like a concrete octopus. It was a little distracting – seriously, he thought he had seen everything and then this octopus guy shows up in a rage – but Simon managed to keep his head in the game. In fact, the whole fight was a little funny until things went sour quick. 

One moment, Simon was torching the guy and then suddenly he was wrapped in concrete, like a snake wrapped its prey. As Simon struggled, the guy's hold continued to constrict – was it an arm? A tentacle? How did this guy buy pants? – and his bones crunched sickeningly. Pain rushed in from everywhere.

Closing his eyes, he tried to flame on, like the Human Torch, but he'd only had his powers for less than a year, and whatever this dude was made of appeared to be heat resistant. The pressure increased again, and even though he didn't want to give the guy the satisfaction, he heard himself scream anyway. 

He focussed on burning as hot as he could, not noticing until Bobby was beside him, covered in ice. Simon could tell he was saying something, yelling at the guy maybe, but Simon was a little too awash with flames to hear anything beyond the roar of his own fire. Eventually, the guy let go, and Simon dropped to the pavement. His powers flickered out, and he became aware of all the ice around him. 

Simon watched as Bobby froze the guy in place, finding whatever moisture this guy had in his apparently stone body – not much, Simon thought, coughing weakly, mouth tasting faintly metallic – and using that to finally stop him from attacking Central Park. Simon lay on the ground, panting.

"Holy shit," Bobby said, hand hovering over Simon's back. "How bad are you hurt?"

"I've felt better," Simon mumbled, hoping all the bone grinding didn't mean anything was broken. Between running his power at the max and being squeezed by a concrete boa constrictor, he was exhausted and in pain and really didn't think he could stand. "Might need Eric to carry me."

"If you think you can handle ice, I can do it," Bobby said. 

"Probably be good for the bruising," Simon agreed. "Yeah, sure, try. Thanks."

It did feel good to have his entire body iced, and Bobby got him back to the mansion without mishap. He spent the next couple days in the medical bay, being treated by Dr. Reyes. Nothing was technically broken, but he'd definitely sustained some serious bruising, and she wanted to monitor him closely. 

Bobby came by every day, to hang out and make him laugh and stuff.

It was nice. Better than nice. It kind of made him love him. It kind of made him realize he already did.

* 

Simon had never actually been in love before – the guy from the party didn't count since he'd never even known his name and had basically just loved the idea of him – so he hadn't realized that he was. Simon couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but now that he knew, it was possible to ignore.

He, the perennial late bloomer, was finally in love when he least wanted or expected to be. 

Instead of being happy about it, he mostly just wanted to cry his fucking eyes out. 

It figured, he thought morosely. It had been bound to happen eventually, him falling for someone, but it had been the one thing he hoped would wait until after he and Bobby had fizzled out. Because they had to fizzle eventually. Their relationship was built entirely on wanting to bone each other. No feelings, especially no love, and Simon knew it all had to end someday, but now his heart was tied up in it. 

He had to end it before he got even more tangled up in Bobby's life. As it stood now, the inevitable end was going to destroy him anyway. Apt punishment for breaking the terms of their casual sex agreement.

Bobby was an accountant. He knew all about agreements and the penalties for breaking them. He would understand. Bobby was a good guy like that. For a first love, he was the perfect choice.

Except he'd been clear from the beginning that he wasn't looking for anything serious. 

"Fuck," Simon said, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He was not going to cry. He wasn't. 

But the same night he was released from the med-bay, he ended up right back in Bobby's bed. He hadn't meant to, but Bobby had been there waiting to help him back to his room. He'd been so nice and charming, and Simon was still a little freaked about almost dying. Bobby had looked him over with concern then asked, "how are you feeling?" That had been enough for Simon's thin resolve to crumble.

Bobby had just looked so happy to see him. He didn't care that it wasn't really him that Bobby was happy to see but his body, mostly recovered. He wasn't mad about it or anything, just a little sad. He wanted Bobby to be happy to see all of him, even the hidden parts Simon hadn't shown anybody yet.

"Still a little sore," Simon admitted, watching Bobby's hand and how it kept flexing like he wanted to touch him, "but less like I was crushed by a concrete octopus and more like I worked out too hard."

"That guy really did look like a concrete octopus." Bobby shook his head. "Mutations are wild, man." 

"Yeah," Simon agreed then added, feeling weirdly shy, "listen, Bobby, I really appreciate the solid you did for me, like, not letting me be crushed to death or whatever. Thanks. That was really cool of you."

"Literally," Bobby said, smiling again, "because I'm Iceman."

Simon laughed, and they ended up back in Bobby's room, taking it slow and easy. It was really nice, having Bobby's hands and mouth so reverently on his body, careful not to hurt him or jostle anything, stoking his desire to a bright flame. His bruises had mostly faded to yellow, but he appreciated the concern. It just confirmed that Bobby was a good guy. Simon hadn't had many of those in his life. 

He stayed, after, and in the morning, with the sun shining through the window, Simon knew he finally had to end it. He sat up and slid to the end of the bed, tugging on his sweatpants. Bobby made a bunch of warm, sleepy noises, reaching for him, but Simon took his hand and placed it back on the bed. 

Bobby came fully awake. "Simon?" 

"So I can't do this anymore," Simon said, talking to the wall. He wished he was brave enough to look at Bobby's face, but he wasn't. "It's not you, it's me. You're an amazing guy. I guess it was just bad timing. I'm probably in love with you, and I know that wasn't our deal, so I'm just gonna... I'm gonna go."

"Simon," Bobby said again, moving on the bed, but Simon shook him off. 

"I'll need like a week to get over it," he said, standing up and tugging on his t-shirt. "Just a week and then I'll be just like I was, before the wedding. And sorry," he added, hand on the door, without looking back. "I didn't mean to. I probably made you think I was really experienced, but I'm not. I'm, like, the world's latest bloomer, with everything. I've never even dated anyone before, and yeah. Sorry. Bye."

Simon left before Bobby could say anything, and he actually made it to his room before he did anything embarrassing like cry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. There hadn't been time for it, between his mom's illness and school and powers and prison and then, mercifully, the X-Men. 

He made up for lost time. He cried harder than he thought a human body even could.

*

Simon was still awake, lying in bed, cried out and empty, when there was a soft knock on the door. He thought about pretending he wasn't in there, but the person kept knocking, which meant they knew he was. Finally, he peeled himself off the bed and opened the door. Bobby stood there looking remorseful.

"I know you asked for a week..." Bobby started.

"It's been, like, twenty minutes," Simon replied, exasperated and starting to get a little angry. 

"Can I come in? I think a couple wires have gotten crossed here, and the idea of making you feel like shit for a week when I could just be honest makes me feel like shit. So instead of us both feeling shitty, maybe we should talk about this. I would have been here sooner, but I had to get your present."

"What present?"

"This one," Bobby said, pulling a jar of vibrantly red maraschino cherries from behind his back. He'd taped a gold bow to the top. "I had to dig in the fridge to find it. I bought them, like, three years ago, and I know how much you like them. How much we both like them. They expired ten months ago."

"I would still eat them," Simon said, taking the jar of cherries and fighting the urge to cry again.

"So would I," Bobby admitted with a half-grin. "Seriously, though, can we talk?" 

Simon nodded, stepping back so Bobby could come in. Glancing at him, Bobby obviously noticing the tears, but he thankfully didn't say anything. Bobby sat down on Simon's desk chair as Simon took the bed, crossing one leg under the other and placing the jar of cherries between them. They were still cold. 

"So first thing first: are you okay?"

Simon felt tears spring to his eyes again. He wiped his hand over them roughly. "Yeah," he said with a watery voice. "I just think all the shit from the last year is, like, catching up with me now. It's been a crappy twelve months," he admitted with a deep, shuddering breath. Bobby got up and grabbed a tissue. He mimed sitting down, and Simon nodded gratefully as Bobby slid an arm over his shoulders. 

"If we haven't made you feel welcome, I'm sorry," Bobby said, squeezing him. "I know I was an asshole to you when you first joined and that I've probably been an asshole to you now, in a different way, but – no offence – you're not really Brotherhood of Evil Mutants material. You're a good guy."

Simon pressed the tissue to his face. "Thanks," he said, "but no, being an X-Man has been great. Probably the best thing I've ever done in my life. It's just... everything else. Life in general. _You_."

"Yeah," Bobby said, giving him another squeeze.

"I'll get over it though," Simon added, dabbing at his eyes again. This was not suave. Not at all.

"What if I don't want you to get over it?" Bobby asked softly. 

Simon's heart flip-flopped in his chest. He risked a glance in Bobby's direction. 

"So full confession: I'm into you, too," Bobby said. "Like, really into you. The night after the wedding, when I tried to blow you off... I was scared. I was an emotional, clingy mess who'd just gotten his heart broken, and I didn't want to put that on you. _Nobody_ on the planet is looking for that in a boyfriend. But I was also crazy attracted to you, and then you were interested, and I... completely misread the situation."

Simon snorted wetly. "I accidentally joined the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants," he told him, risking a comforting pat on Bobby's jean-covered knee. "I think I know a bit about misreading a situation."

Bobby barked a laugh. "Ha, yeah, I guess you do. But casual sex is not really something I'm good at. I'm good at dating and being friends with the people I'm interested in and staying friends with them after. Most of my dating history is me lying my ass off so no one would notice how super gay I am."

"No one has ever wanted to date me," Simon admitted. "I'm not anyone's idea of a boyfriend."

"I do, and you're mine. So here's what I think we should do – and tell me if I'm totally off base – but... let's take sex off the table. Let's date and see where this goes. I mean, we already know we're amazing in bed together," Bobby said, puffing up his cheeks then exhaling sharply. Simon nodded, unable to disagree. "So we... date a bit. See where this goes." Bobby tilted his head suddenly, smiling, and Simon instinctively smiled back. "I don't know about you, but I have a pretty good feeling about our odds."

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm a late bloomer. I feel like I'll never catch up."

"Neither do I," Bobby said, "but maybe we can figure it out together? If you want to, of course."

Simon didn't even hesitate. "I want to," he told him, and Bobby smiled at him again, bright and happy.


End file.
